


Enough Now

by crowdedangels



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-20 23:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17632169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowdedangels/pseuds/crowdedangels
Summary: They didn't need words, their eyes could speak volumes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Immeasurable thanks, as always, to the ABFF Tricki xxx

Carter opened the locker room door and stopped in her tracks. Jack was leant back against the opposite wall, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, a large duffel bag at his feet. 

 

He looked up and caught her eyes. No words were said; to anyone watching there was no communication, no movement of either body to constitute some form of understanding for Jack to stoop to collect his bag, nor Sam to close the door behind her and fall into step with him.

 

But they had spoken volumes. 

 

She followed him out to his truck, climbed into the passenger seat and was driven wordlessly to his house. She looked out the window; the familiar views seemingly changed somehow. Maybe it was just her. Them. The last fifteen years on the frontline of an intergalactic adventure, war, mission, potential death wish. 

 

She fingered the bandage circling her bicep under her shirt. Another scar to add the list. The images of the last mission - the one they barely escaped not two hours ago - flashed to her mind and she screwed her eyes shut to dispel them. To stop seeing Cam unresponsive on the dirt, blood seeping from his stomach and head. Teal’c surrounded, using his staff weapon as a battering ram to get to Vala, her shoulder being ripped from its socket before slamming her opponent to the ground, her thighs crushing the breath from his throat. 

 

Jack stole a look to her, his hands tightening around the steering wheel. She still held the tension in her shoulders, her skin sallow and pale. He was just happy to see her alive, breathing, no longer running through the no man’s land between SG1 and their attackers, shouting for cover while already half-way across, ignoring Jack’s calls, pleas, demands for her to hit the deck, come back, not to get killed. 

 

But she had to get to Daniel. Jack knew she had to, and he was thankful she could get to him and drag his unconscious ass back to relative safety, but his heart was still hammering painfully in his chest. There was only one reason he had been granted permission to leave the infirmary that night, and the medical discharge papers -along with his resignation notice - were being faxed to President before he had even changed back to his civilian clothes. 

 

It wasn't that easy, he had more papers to sign and meetings to attend, but effectively, that was it. He was retired once again. No more frontline service, no more desk duty. 

 

He pulled into his driveway and killed the engine, his hands dropping to his lap. The adrenaline was beginning to lessen, a migraine forming dull and deep at the base of his skull, his skin tingling as he started to break into a cold sweat. 

 

He flexed his hands and bunched them into fists, his muscles feeling tight, slow.

 

She watched him. Running her eyes over his face; his eye was darkening where he had been hit and the bandage over his chest wound was just visible above where his button down shirt was left open. She was too late; she should have pulled the trigger on his attacker earlier. 

 

Her fingers found the door handle and it pulled him from his reverie, almost waking him and spurring him to action. He followed her this time, his bag over his shoulder as he stepped past her to open the front door. 

 

His bag dropped to the floor with a thud in the hallway, looking around and scratching at the back of his head. He didn't know what to do, what to say - food? A drink? He didn’t know what he wanted.

 

Sam stripped her arms from her jacket and hung it on the hook by the door, prompting him to do the same. She took a breath before turning and walking the short distance to his bedroom. 

 

He silently followed.

 

The curtains were still closed, a slight chill in the air from the early, surprise start he had had. He wasn’t supposed to have been there, he wasn’t in town to join the fight but no one was better equipped. He abandoned his day’s meetings, left his dress blues hanging against the door as he raced to the mountain and through the Gate. 

 

She was in danger, of course he’d go. 

 

The blankets were still screwed up on the bed and he watched as she sat down, unzipped her boots and left them neatly to the side before standing to pull her jeans from her legs. It wasn’t done as a strip tease, it wasn’t an act to excite him and, though he was mesmerised, he saw it only as a means for comfort as she curled onto her side in the bed. Her head hit the pillow and she pulled the blankets up to her neck waiting for him. 

 

This wasn’t about sex. Maybe that would come later. He couldn’t have even if he wanted to; exhaustion was quickly pulling at all facets of his being and he knew it was for her too. He crawled in beside her, lying behind her, noticing how her long hair fanned across the pillow. He’d dreamt about this. About sliding her hair from her shoulder and pressing kisses into her skin, seeing her cheeks rise in a smile, maybe gasping as he pressed into her. 

 

Sam reached behind her until she could find his hand and pull it over her. He shuffled forward as she edged back, their bodies molding together. 

 

She softened around him, relaxing into him, threading her fingers with his around her waist. 

 

He sighed; fifteen years of longing and denying and every emotion being over-amplified draining from him as he pressed up behind the soft solidity of her body. “I love you,” he whispered. 

 

“I love you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks all for lovely words! Realised I should have maybe mentioned that Jack still has his house in this because I love that house more than my own and think Sam did too.

She moaned, writhing in his arms, her eyes screwed tightly shut. “Jack…  _ Jack.” _

 

“Hmm?” 

 

“My arm,” she freed her injured arm from beneath his. She turned so she lay on her back, wishing she could have gone to her other side to snuggle into his chest but the throbbing laceration said no. “Sorry I woke you.”

 

“You never have to apologise for that.”

 

Her lips tilted into a smile, her impossibly blue eyes shining as she looked at him. 

 

Beautiful didn’t come close to what he saw before him. She was scratched and bruised, her hair kinked and messy from the quick dry after the Mountain’s showers and the pillow. Her skin had more colour than the six hours previous and coupled with the sliver of moonlight falling over her eyes from the gap in the curtains, she was nothing short of breath-taking. 

 

Jack propped himself up on an elbow, resting his heavy head on his palm. He smoothed his fingers from her temple to her chin, her skin soft under his touch. She looked up to him with so much earnest honesty and openness and, dare he really say love, that if she alone hadn’t stripped him of his breath, that look would. He leant down, her lips just inches away when his back spasmed at the angle and he crashed back to the mattress with a grunt.

 

She bit her lips together against a laugh, “you okay?”

 

His hands massaged at the base of his back, trapped between it and bed, “No giggling.” Though the sound of it was definitely soothing. God he wanted to kiss her.  _ Could  _ kiss her but no, the Programme had to throw something else into their path. 

 

“I’ll draw us a bath,” she smoothed her hand down his arm, earning just a groan in response. He was able to turn his head with minimal pain, watching her pad to the en suite in black tee shirt and black underwear, her legs seemingly endless pale, toned muscle. He groaned again. 

 

The water was running when he made it to the bathroom, apparently having found a bottle of bubble bath in some deep, dark recess of his cupboard. He grabbed towels from the airing cupboard when she stepped up behind him, her fingers wrapping around the hem of his tee to pull it from him. Her arms slid under his, her hands on his chest as she placed a kiss between his shoulder blades. 

 

She kissed him again - up his neck, down his spine - smoothing her hands around to his back and pressing her fingers into his muscles. He vibrated under her touch, her thumbs massaging up his spine, relaxing his muscles in a way they hadn’t been in years. 

 

Her fingers moved lower, dipping beneath the waistband of his boxer shorts and pushing them from his hips. Her hands smoothed back up along his hips and retraced their path along his spine. Her kisses stopped, her forehead resting against his neck. 

 

Through the aches and pains, the ever present exhaustion, she couldn’t deny the arousal she felt. Fifteen years in the making and there he was. There they were. Naked, in each other’s arms, no more barriers. 

 

Except the cuts, bruises, bandages, emotional baggage, psychological scars and her underwear. 

 

He stooped to turn off the water before turning in her arms. She spun too, sweeping her hair from her back so she could see the bra hook. 

 

He deftly unclasped it despite the heaviness of the moment, sliding the straps down the arms until she caught it and dropped it to the side. The air was thick with steam and a sickly lavender fragrance, his fingers dancing down the curve of her back with feather light touches. 

 

Copying her manoeuvres, his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of her cotton underwear and dropped them to the floor. 

 

The bandage on her arm needed to be changed but so would his after the bath. 

 

She heard the slight splash as he stepped into the hot water, sliding down with an appreciative hum. She stepped in next, lowering herself between his legs and allowing him to pull her back into his chest. He hissed and squirmed until they found a position for her that didn’t aggravate his wound. 

 

“We should have brought music,” she smiled, feeling her aches soothing away.

 

“And snacks.”

 

She suddenly remembered she hadn’t eaten since a power bar before all hell broke loose. “Mmm, food.” 

 

“I can order in.”

 

She nestled further into him, her hands smoothing up his legs, picking at the hairs of the thighs that surrounded her. “Later.”

 

He swept her hair from her shoulder, placing a kiss against her skin. She hummed approval, stretching her legs out in front of her and crossing her ankles on the edge. The water sloshed at the movement but the bubbles stayed in place, covering her most intimate parts. Was it strange they could do this? Be so comfortable and open and  _ naked  _ with each other without having even been with the other? Barely having even kissed outside of groundhog day and quantum mirrors? He kissed up her neck, behind her ear. 

 

Maybe she was thinking the same, or maybe she was just comfortable and willing and it seemed right, because she turned her head and attached her lips to his. 

 

It was an awkward angle but,  _ God _ , it was everything. He cupped her far cheek, his thumb smoothing over the soft skin as he had earlier, her fingers wrapping around his forearm and the other squeezing around his knee. 

 

It wasn’t desperate, all-encompassing, toe-curling; there wasn’t an explicit need expressed through writhing tongues or bitten lips. It was calm, exploratory, but by no-means boring. This was a kiss of two people who had been together a long time, two people who had fought and lived side by side, who had trust in the other possibly more than they had in themselves. It was a  _ finally _ , not a whistling kettle of pent up frustration about to explode. That would come later, but for now it was openness, honesty, sighs of content and, of course, arousal. 

 

He breathed her name against her lips, an affirmation of her presence. She tightened her fingers around his arm in response, her eyes still closed against the onslaught of emotion. She settled her head under his chin, placing a kiss against his neck and encouraging his arms around her. 

 

She had dreamt of this. Those cold, lonely nights when the veil between the good, obedient soldier and the woman with wants and needs and desires would fray further. She would imagine his arms around her, strong, tanned, holding her together and holding her to him. Some nights she would imagine his fingers, his tongue, his body working her to a release that would solve everything, rid her of the apparent tension she had held all these years and leave her spent and satisfied instead of a hollow orgasm she could do for herself. 

 

Some nights she would worry that they wouldn’t work, that they would have nothing outside of work to talk about, no common interests to fulfill a successful relationship outside of hopefully incredible sex. 

 

Maybe they wouldn’t but the last few hours told her that they didn’t need words to love each other, nor even sex. There was an understanding that she couldn’t explain yet. An ease she had never felt with anyone else. They had lived a life together, had the ups and down, the disappointments and elations and now they got to reap the rewards. Now was their time.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack held a hand out for her, the water sliding from her body in enticing rivulets. She stepped from the bath and into the large towel held out for her. She smiled her thanks, bringing the edges together to wipe beneath her eyes as he scrubbed his towel over his hair, which was sticking up in all directions despite only the very nape getting wet when he had scratched at his neck.

 

He left the towel around his neck, holding on to either side, his mouth tilting up into a smirk. It was like looking at the Jack of fifteen years ago, stood opposite each other in the briefing room discussing her correct honorifics and his like of women. His dark hair and her youthful naivety. 

 

“Food?” He asked, standing before her as naked as the day be born and as confident and unabashed as she ever knew him.

 

She shook her head, “bed.” 

 

The smirk on his face grew larger, who was he to deny a beautiful woman? 

 

They made it to the bedroom, towels left in sodden heaps on the way; kisses, gasps, wandering hands being exchanged, teased, promised alongside infrequently used first names and a breathed last. 

 

He entered her after a plea, a wanton mewl as her shaking thighs surrounded him. He had never heard her swear like that before.

 

It couldn’t be beginners luck. He didn’t care how much experience either of them had. It had taken years for him and Sara to feel this comfortable, this open and willing and in tune with one another. To where ‘making love’ could be fast and hard while still being reverent and spectacular. 

 

He would never understand how she could love him. How she could see what he once was and what he could possibly be again amongst the pain and darkness and stupid sense of humor. He could never thank her enough for saving him. 

 

They chased completion together, fingernails digging in, words clipped, keens, purrs, grunts, names. Her fingers were in his hair when she arched into him, her body shaking, sounds stolen from her mouth as she bit into her lip and pulsated around him. He managed to grunt her name into her shoulder; choked, guttural noises as he followed her, his hips shuddering and entire body spent. 

 

Sam curled around him, holding on to his sweating body and relishing in the weight against her chest as he came back to her. She kissed his ear, his bruised cheekbone. 

 

He moved off her and to his back, her leg sliding over his, her cheek on his shoulder, her fingers tracing the lifting edges of his bandage. “Now I could eat.” Her head jostled as he let out a laugh. 

 

“I need another bath.”

 

“There’s time,” she grinned, her face and chest still flushed as she looked at him. “We have that now.”

 

As if on cue, his cell phone rang. Her face fell as he swung his legs over the bed, scrubbing a hand over his face as she gathered the bedsheet around herself. “Yeah?” he growled. “Um, O’Neill.”

 

_ “Oh you finally decided to answer your phone?” _

 

“What’s going on, Daniel?”

 

_ “I thought you might like to know Cam’s getting discharged tomorrow. He’s just in for observation overnight for the concussion.” _

 

Jack already knew that. He’d seen enough injuries to know the one on Mitchell’s stomach was essentially superficial and it’d the head wound that be the issue. But Cam, and  all of them, had had enough concussions over the years to have the concern and urgency almost to the level of having a bruise. Rightly or wrongly. “That’s good to hear.” 

 

Sam could hear Daniel’s clipped tones over the phone so heard Cam’s diagnosis. They wouldn’t have left the base if they thought it might have been worse. She slipped from the bed and stooped for Jack’s shirt, putting it on as she padded to the bathroom and to the hall. 

 

_ “Landry said the President is trying to get hold of you but he’s fencing him off.” _

 

“That’s fine. I’ll speak to him tomorrow.”

 

_ “You’re going to keep the President waiting?” _

 

“He’ll understand.”

 

_ “... Okay. Anyway, do you know where Sam is? She raced out of here as well after the debrief.” _

 

She came back into the room with the fresh bandages from their bags in the hall, all the takeout menus from the drawer and two beers from the fridge. His tee shirt barely came to her mid-thigh and the whole sight was rendering him dumbstruck. “Hmm?” 

 

_ “I said I can’t get hold of Sam, do you know where she is?” _

 

Her head canted to the side before chuckling as he held the phone out to her. “Hi, Daniel.”

 

_ “...Oh.” _

 

She waited a beat for the realisation to sink in, her eyebrows raising to Jack and gesturing for him to lie back down. 

 

“... _ Oh! _ ”

 

“Bye, Daniel.” She clicked the end call button and tossed the phone to his jeans, bringing her leg over Jack’s so she straddled his hips. “So, give it five minutes and the whole base will know.”

 

“You -  _ ah! _ \- okay with that?” 

 

She pulled on another corner of his chest bandage, the adhesive stuck well to his hairs. She wasn’t okay with the thought of people talking about her -  _ them  _ \- nor the speculations and gossip her mind often plagued her with. “There’s always been talk. At least now it's true.”

 

“We did it right - I retired first.” He hissed as she cleaned the wound.

 

She nodded, looking like she wanted to say something while opening the fresh bandage.

 

“What?” 

 

“Should I retire?”

 

His mouth opened and closed in search of words. “...Do you want to retire?”

 

She affixed the new bandage, screwed up all the papers and dropped her hands to her lap. “I don't know. I want to spend time with you… and I don’t think I want to be on the frontline anymore.”

 

“That doesn’t have to mean retirement,” he jostled her on his lap as he sat up, fixing pillows behind his back so he could lean back against the headboard. “The science labs would jump over themselves to have you. Carter, you could invent a new role and they would be like ‘yup, okay’.”

 

She laughed, tracing her fingernails down his stomach. 

 

“Landry would do anything to keep you and the President has all but said he loves you.” He threaded his fingers into her hair, Sam nuzzling her cheek into his palm, “Do whatever you want. I’ll still be here.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Oh yeah, you’re stuck with me, babe.” 

 

She leant forward, her hand traveling lower on his abdomen and between where their bodies met. She leant into a kiss with a smile, “I like the sound of that.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank so much all xx

She watched him move around the bedroom, her eyes following his every move and roving over every inch of bare skin he laid unabashedly bare for her. His physique was softer than he used to be - a peril of desk duty after a life on the run - but he carried it well. Hell, so was she. Jack had met her as a spritely, lithe, tiny waisted twenty-eight-year-old. Lately, she couldn’t have felt further away from that.

 

She thought back to their first meeting in the briefing room all those years ago, to finally putting a voice and persona to a face and words she had read so much about in her years of setting up the programme. She wondered if she had loved him before she had even met him, an irrefutable respect that only grew with time and proximity. In seeing how he treated others, how he held himself in situations, how he implicitly trusted those with expertise beyond his understanding. How he could keep his humor, even if it was voiced at oft inappropriate times, an acquired taste, or just for her ears. 

 

Sometimes it surprised her how much she loved him. He could look at her with that smirk, his eyes boring into hers like he was watching a different life unfold in his mind’s eye, and it was like a two tonne truck would hit her - taking her breath and knocking her off balance. 

 

Sometimes she thought she could do that to him too - she could see a softness in his eyes juxtaposed with what looked like a burning need. It was a look that would set a fire burning within her, trickles of heat tingling over her body at the x-rated fantasies her starved mind could produce. 

 

“What?”

 

“Hmm?” Her legs smoothed together, toes pointing as her mind combined those previous fantasies with very recent memories.

 

His eyes twinkled in understanding before looking down to pay careful attention to how he zipped his fly considering the instant reaction his body had to her. “I’ll get the pizza,” he told her, a knock sounding at the door again. “Jimmy’ll never walk straight if you answer.”

 

She rolled her eyes but laughed as he padded barefoot and shirtless to the hallway, listening to the quiet, short conversation about Jack being back in town and Jimmy’s second career as pitcher in a local baseball team. Sam buried her nose into the pillow, surrounded by his scent and a strange teenage glee running through her that this was all happening. 

 

It took her a long time to confess to herself that she didn’t get that with Pete, and then longer to actually listen to that confession and to have the bravery and love for herself to not settle. To understand that Jack was the one, no one would compare and it wasn’t fair to herself or whoever to allow someone to love her in a way she couldn’t love back. As loathe as she was possibly to admit it, she had her father to thank for that kick up the ass.

 

She heard the door close then the fridge open a few beats later so she got up and slipped his shirt on before arranging the pillows back against the headboard. 

 

“Eat,” he commanded, setting the box into the middle of the bed, the room suddenly filling with the scent of melted cheese and warm cardboard. She was happy to, separating a slice each and feeding it into her mouth. She murmured her thanks for the proffered beer as he sat next to her. 

 

“Did he ask about that?” She gestured to the large bandage on his chest, her fingers covering her mouth add she continued to chew. 

 

“I said I got a tattoo that said ‘no regrets’,” he picked up a slice, “and now I wish I hadn't…”

 

She laughed into her bite, her eyes looking down out of habit. 

 

He wondered if she had any idea how impossibly sexy that was. Laughing at his stupid jokes, being often the only one to do so and sometimes the only thing that would get him through some of the briefings they had endured over the years. Surely she must know that half of the questionable comedic elements he brought to conversations over the years were to make her smile as much as it was to keep his own sanity? 

 

She sighed contentedly into her next slice, the hunger finally abiding. The thought of leaving her for DC after what they had shared made something in his chest constrict painfully. He didn't want to leave her. He never wanted to know another second of this life without her at his side and not within touching distance, and the intensity he felt about it almost scared him. He knew intellectually it was just the honeymoon period, the first few insatiable months of a new relationship, but that didn't make it any easier. 

 

He would be flying back to DC in a few mere hours without a definite return date. Hopefully the President would accept his resignation immediately, or at least have his notice period be less than the usual months. Though President Hayes couldn't refuse the medical discharge Jack had been dealt, he could be unpredictable at times. 

 

“You have leave, right?” He asked suddenly, not really knowing where his thought process was heading. 

 

“Some,” she nodded, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. ‘Some’ was an understatement. 

 

“Take some. I know we’re in a bit limbo right now but let Laundry know. Let's go somewhere.”

 

“Where?”

 

“I don't care. The cabin? Hawaii? I honestly don't care as long as it's just us and it's away from here.”

 

Her smile grew into a grin, “Okay.” 

 

“I know we're have so much to talk about too but…”

 

“We have time. We don't have to have everything settled now. ” 

 

He heaved a breath like he had finally realised that this was happening, he wasn't dreaming,  she was really on his bed wearing his clothes and smiling at him like she loved him. His chest swelled.  _ God, this woman _ . 

 

They ate, they slept and they kissed - which very nearly led to them being late to the Mountain - but, after a quick stop at Sam’s house for fresh clothes, Jack rolled the truck to a stop. He killed the engine and sat back in the seat. “You ready?” 

 

She looked to him, her eyes wide with just a hint of nerves and vulnerability, “No.”

 

He took her hand and kissed the back, her fingers squeezing his. “I'll be back soon.”

 

“Good. We have a vacation to plan.”

 

Jack smiled, wondering if adding ‘and a life’ would be too corny. “C’mon.”

 

They met at the back of the truck, Jack feeding his arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to kiss her temple as they walked. Her hand was on his chest, side stepping as they headed to the check point. They were still far enough way that she didn't feel too awkward in the display, but Jack understood why she pulled away the closer they got.  People would likely know by now, likely wouldn't care, but that didn't mean they needed a front row seat. 

 

“I'll miss you,” she whispered one they were through and walking towards the elevators.  

 

“Miss you too. Won’t be long.” He thumbed for the lift, the backs of his fingers brushing against her hand as they waited. 

 

They let people leave before stepping into the carriage, returning to each other's side like magnets drawn to each other, fingers lightly entwining as they looked up to the floor numbers and where the cameras would be watching them. 

 

He heaved a breath when they hit their floor, her fingers brushing against his with more pressure. 

 

The doors jerked open and the two stepped forward and away from each other a slight, “Have a good day, Colonel. Don't go blowing anything up without the proper clearance.” His back was straighter, his shoulders back as he became General O’Neill once again. 

 

She tried to fight the smile at the change in his demeanour,  how she now had a comparison to him very much out of uniform. “Can't promise, Sir. Have a good flight.”

 

“Thank you,” he said, nodding hello to Siler in the hallway. The sergeant didn't seem to have any other reaction than the norm to them so Jack wondered if maybe they could actually pull this off with minimal ripple effect…

 

… until they turned the corner into Sam’s lab to find Teal’c, Daniel, Vala and a heavily bandaged Cam stood before them, each with varying degrees of a smirk. 

 

“We need to talk,” Vala grinned, pointing a finger to Sam. 

 

Sam's cheeks flushed, her mouth opening in the search for words before looking to Jack for his reaction. 

 

“What?” Jack shrugged, looking between the group as non-chalantly as he could manage. 

 

“Oh c’mon, guys!” Daniel stepped forward, squeezing past Vala with a ready grin, “we weren't exactly expecting a full make out session, but just something? We've been waiting for this to happen just as long as you have.”

 

“That's…” Jack placed his hand on his shoulder,  “creepy, Daniel.”

 

Daniel frowned but Teal’c piped up from the back, his tan robes making his muscular frame seem even larger, “We are just happy for you.”

 

“C’mon, let's leave the two love birds-”

 

“-Cam-” 

 

“-to their goodbyes. It's bad enough asking for a girl's hand from their father, never mind from the President of the United States.”

 

“Cam!” Sam laughed, giving his arm a decent smack as he passed. His lips were tilted in an evil smile, but his eyes shone with genuine affection. 

 

“I want all the juicy details,” Vala grinned. “I'll come by at lunch.”

 

“You really don't have to…”

 

Teal’c stepped to Daniel’s side as the younger man smiled,  “We are just genuinely happy for you. It’s been a long time coming.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

“Thanks, guys,” Jack said, remembering all the instances when heads were turned, things not mentioned and instances omitted from reports. It hadn't been just him and Sam fighting this fight,  it had been all of them. But that didn't mean he was any more comfortable talking about it with them. “This has been a terrifying five minutes.”

 

Sam laughed, her eyes dipping down again. Daniel rolled his eyes as he and Teal’c left them to it,  Sam touching the arms of their friends as they passed. 

 

“There's cameras in here, right?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Damn.”

 

“Call me tonight?” 

 

His lips tilted into a smirk, the kind that had her stomach flip and heart swell, "yeahsureyeahbetcha.”

 

Sam grinned, watching him saunter from the room and towards Landry’s office. She had never felt happier. 


End file.
